


Hate

by NalgeneWhore



Series: Elorcan One Shots [28]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, F/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NalgeneWhore/pseuds/NalgeneWhore
Summary: im also on tumblr @nalgenewhore! (i post more regularly there)
Relationships: Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre
Series: Elorcan One Shots [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636468
Kudos: 10





	Hate

He hated his life.

Correction, he hated what he had _done_ to his life.

He hated that he was bitter and cold, surly and rude, managing to keep everyone far away.

And the only person that had been able to slip past his walls, well.

Fuck.

He had everything with her.

He didn’t need anything, didn’t _want_ anything other than her.

He would wake up in the middle of the night, her voice and laughter echoing in his ears, already reaching for the body he thought was there and his hands would grasp empty and cold sheets and he would panic, _why wasn’t she there_ , she was always there, never too far away and always warm.

He would be so confused and hurt, _where was she._ And then images would flash through his mind, images of packed bags, images of a small figure, her arms wrapped around her frame, her chin trembling as she barely held back tears.

_I can’t be with you and watch you do this to yourself._

_I love you too much to stand here and let this happen._

_Don’t call me, don’t ask for me._

_I can’t tell you where I’m going, just know that I’m safe, I’m safe, baby._

_I love you, never forget that. Never forget, I am yours, forever and always._

He had begged for her, down on his knees before her, asking her not to go. He had told her once that he never begged for anything and there he was, his heart being ripped out of his chest while she walked backwards out of his apartment.

_El, please, please. I’m begging you, don’t do this, baby. Don’t do this to me._

_I’ll do anything, I can fix it. I want to fix this._

_Please, please, please, please. You can’t do this to us, please don’t do this to us._

_I love you, I love you, please. I love you so much._

It hadn’t worked, his pleading and she left. He remembered hearing her sobs from the hallway, outside his closed door and he had risen to his feet to open it, to comfort her but they stopped. The sounds of her crying stopped and then it was silence.

Pure, deafening.

Silence.

It was almost comical, how something that was the opposite of noise was the loudest.

It roared in his ears, the quiet, the absence of all noises.

Well, not all noises.

He heard the sounds of his fists coming down on the mirror, the sound of his sobs, the sound of his love closing the door, the sounds of the bars he wound up in every night.

He heard the sounds of his brothers and friends, begging him to open the door, to talk to them, to stop shutting them out.

He ignored them, dodging their calls and avoiding their attempts to see him.

He didn’t want that, he didn’t want to see anyone.

He brought people back to his apartment, never letting them in his bedroom, where the sheets still smelled like her, elderberry and cinnamon.

They all looked the same, dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin, delicate freckles.

It wasn’t enough.

Their sounds, the way they smelled, the way they moved, the pattern of their freckles, it was all _wrong_.

They all knew the drill, often leaving even before they had fallen asleep and he couldn’t count on his hands how many times he had rushed to his bathroom, slamming to his knees and retching, feeling so ashamed and disgusted with himself.

Even nearly a year later, he still felt like the day after everything in his life went to shit. Like it was fake and he would wake up and she’d be there, sitting on the windowsill in one of his shirts, a mug of steaming tea in her hands, telling him gently it was a dream or she’d come back, never having left in the first place.

Eventually, Aelin had had enough. She shoved her way in, wrinkling her nose at the state of his home and the state of him, cleaning everything and tutting her tongue, telling him he couldn’t do this, this was no way to live.

But the thing was, he didn’t want to live without her and didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to function without her. He was weak, a coward, vulnerable, a bastard.

Lorcan Salvaterre hated his life. And nothing about that would change.

**Author's Note:**

> im also on tumblr @nalgenewhore! (i post more regularly there)


End file.
